The Awakening
by lokiyan
Summary: Crack!Crossover GG/Supernatural !AU!Timeline postGG, preSPN. As her life falls apart, Blair finds herself falling into a mystery. It may take a hunter to help her find a way out. ontherocks!CB, Dean/Blair
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Let this serve as a disclaimer for all subsequent chapters that I do not own anything from the Gossip Girl nor the Supernatural franchises.

A/N: This is something that came out of my vault written waaay back in September. Completely experimental and just keep an open mind, yes? Let me know what you guys think.

The Awakening

Chapter 1

For the first time in her twenty-three years, Blair Waldorf had no idea how she got there, but she held on as if her life depended on it. The water beating down on her was turning cold and she pulled her knees closer to her chest. If she put her head down, forehead to her knees, she could pretend like it never happened, like her world wasn't falling apart. She was good at that - pretending. Pretending that her mother loved her, that Nate loved her, that Serena loved her, Chuck... that anyone at all ...

This time, though, out of the corner of her eye, she couldn't stop the scene from replaying before her eyes. The scene that effectively made her movie a tragedy. Everything else that had happened, the lying, the cheating, that had all just been plot points and drama but this... this changed everything. This turned her _Love, Actually, _even in all its messed up. backstabbing glory, into _Beaches, _or even worse because at least Barbara Hershey had Bette Midler to mourn her. She had no one... _and_ she would be a shitty single mother.

The beeping on her full message machine demanded attention and, without turning off the shower or getting out of the tub, she reached out a trembling arm and pressed PLAY. A slender finger poised over the delete button, she listened as the voices of the two most important people in her life in the past six years echoed off the tiles.

"Blair, I'm so sorry. You have no idea-" delete.

"B, I made a mistake. Please-" delete.

"Baby, you're scaring me. Just call-" delete.

"We didn't mean to, B. I swear. Please don't-" delete.

"It didn't mean anything, Bear, I swear. I lov-" Crash. The machine laid on the ground, smashed with the wiring now peeking through the black plastic. Still, the voices wouldn't stop echoing. She was going mad, she was sure of it. So she finally stood and turned off the shower, her body covered in goosebumps, lips trembling from the cold. Her usually coiffed locks stuck to her face and she looked at herself in the mirror, pale and stout. Her hand rested on her stomach - a habit that came naturally since learning of her secret a month ago - and it was no wonder her own fiance didn't want her anymore.

That's when she saw her and in her fear and grief, she had forgotten to scream. She only looked into the mirror as she saw her wide, dilated pupils, her scale covered body rising from the bath water. A burst of wind rushed through her abdomen and there it was again, for the second time in one week, uncertainty lulled Snow White to sleep.

***

"Hi, Dr. Jack Lanchester." A quick flash of fake ID, a handshake and the most artificial smile he could muster. "I was called in to check on a..." Pretend to look at all important looking notepad even though he could probably spell the name backwards, he knew it so well. "... Ms. Audrey Ranch?"

The male nurse looked confused. Good. "Um... Ms. Ranch was medically cleared by Dr. Rivers an hour ago. Are you sure-"

"Listen, I'm just here to do my job." Not bad, Dean. Not entirely a lie. "Now if that Dr. Rivers missed something and that poor woman, who just lost her baby by the way, ends up dead or in a coma, are you going to take responsibility because she didn't get the chance to have a second opinion?" The guy was pretty much shaking in his boots at the thought of getting in trouble. Dean guessed that the sucker had probably never been responsible for anything in his life.

"Uh, Room 314, Doc. Down the hall on your left." He hoped that the nitwit was intelligent enough to give him the correct room number. The three white letters on the door stared back at him and with the confidence bestowed upon him by the white coat that he'd purchased at some obscure Halloween store a couple miles back, he flipped through the file marked "confidential" in a tray by the door. Yup, Audrey Ranch, 27 years old, single, miscarriage. All right, where was the good stuff?

He flipped to the last page. Ah, psych eval. There we go. "_The patient displayed classic signs of post-traumatic..._"

"Classic signs my ass," he muttered under his breath.

"I'm sorry?"

His head snapped up and there stood a pretty little blond. The charmer smile turned up automatically and he extended his hand. "Dr. Jack Lanchester. Are you Ms. Ranch's family?"

She had soft hands. "Yea. Abbie. I'm Audrey's sister. I thought the other doctor said that my sister's okay."

This other doctor was a serious pain in his ass, apparently. "Of course. I'm just here for a routine check. A follow up on the psychological evaluation. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to speak with your sister alone."

The girl grabbed his forearm. "Listen, my sister isn't crazy. She's just going through some things, all right? Her boyfriend is apparently married, she was hormonal from the pregnancy. Just, please. She's having a difficult time as it is."

"Don't worry. I just need to speak with your sister alone. I am trained at my job, miss." He gave her a quick wink before entering the room, effectively stunning her before she could say anything else.

The room was depressing. Typical. The curtains were drawn and the girl sat in motionless on her bed, limp blonde hair hanging around her face, her stare fixated on a point on the wall. He cleared his throat and her head snapped up at him. "Hi. Dr. Jack Lanchester. I'm just here to ask you some follow up questions about exactly what happened."

Her eyes flashed and moved back and forth rapidly, as if something had appeared. He recognized that look. "Don't worry. You're not crazy. I just need you to tell me _exactly _what you saw."

***

Of course it had to be an ancient mythical creature. A run-of-the-mill angry spirit would be way too easy. All signs pointed to the lamia - a creature dating back to Greek mythology, serpentine lower-body, crazy woman up top. One version of the story included Lamia as one of Zeus' mistresses. When Hera found out, she slaughtered Lamia's children, causing her to turn completely off the rocker and start kidnapping and devouring children.

Lovely.

The strange thing was that they haven't been heard of since a wave of disappearances dating back to 1859 in London. What caused it to re-emerge? In New York of all places. Dean didn't even think that children existed in a place like Manhattan. The ones who grew up there probably had a more messed up childhood than he did.

Something else bothered him - lamia were supposed to kidnap and devour children, as in full grown, independent living breathing beings. Why was this one going after unborn children?

He was just about to get the cute nurse's number when he saw a group of doctors rush towards a gurney that was coming from the ER. He grabbed the arm of one of the overexcited interns. "Hey, what's going on? Did the mayor die or something?"

"Haven't you heard? It was a miscarriage."

"A miscarriage have all of you running like kids on Christmas morning? Come on now-"

"It's Blair Waldorf. She pretty much owns the Upper East Side. No one even knew she was pregnant."

Ah, so it's one of _those_. "Okay, I still don't get what the big deal is."

"Her fiance, Chuck Bass, is the VP of Bass, Inc. They're our biggest investors." With that, the kid ran off. As the gurney passed him, even Dean had to admit that the girl was gorgeous. Not like a model - her limbs weren't quite long enough. Not exactly girl next door, either - her features were too doll-like and delicate. She didn't have a particularly large bust, but he had to admit that those lips, pale as they were, were to die for.

Then he saw it. Amidst her chocolate curls, something reflected off the florescent ceiling lights.

_A scale.  
_


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for supporting my crack!ship habit, guys (insert hateful CV comment here! I really REALLY appreciate it and I certainly hope you guys kind of... hang in there?

The Awakening

Chapter 2

She couldn't quite understand what was going on - her hallucinations, the blood between her legs, the paramedics, the beeping. Then, out of nowhere, a strange hollow feeling that brought tears to her eyes. How could she miss something that was a complete mistake?

Chuck sat on the bed beside her, an arm supporting her shoulder. With what had been going on, she would hardly tolerate being in the same room as him. She had lost all the strength in her limbs, however, and her brain could hardly understand the words that were coming out of the doctor's mouth. All she knew was that she had managed to fail at the one thing that women have been doing for ages before her.

The doctor left to give her "time alone with her thoughts." He must have gotten that line straight out of a Lifetime movie featuring unwed mothers. On the upside, at least she wasn't a teenager anymore. Still, she was lost. How did this happen? Without knowing it, she voiced the question out loud.

"I don't know, babe. But we'll figure things out, okay? It'll be all right." A soft kiss landed on her forehead and jolted her out of her trance. Her head turned toward him as if suddenly noticing that he was there. With a harsh push, she struggled to get away from him. "Blair, stop. You're still recov-"

"Get out. I don't want to see you. Ever." And there they were again. Those images of him and her best friend. Couldn't she mourn the death of her unborn child in peace? Couldn't she think about her dead little princess or prince without thinking about the father's infidelity?

He stood. At least he had the shame to look guilty. "Listen Blair, I cannot apologize enough-"

"You're right, so don't bother. There's nothing you can say to change the situation. I don't want anything from you ever again." This was better - easier. Blair was a lot more comfortable with being angry at an unfaithful beau than deal with the devastation of losing a child. "Just go. After I get discharged, I'll move out of the suite in less than a week. I've already called Dorota to pick up some things-"

"Blair, don't do this-"

"Is she awake? I came as soon as I heard." And there she came, traipsing in like a perfect little princess with her golden hair and ocean blue eyes while she laid there like a broken toy. What was it that Cabbage Patch once said about Chuck? Ah right. Serena was just what this situation needed.

"Why bother to act like you care? It's not like you ever cared about hurting me before." She didn't care that she sounded like an impetuous child. She was past the point of caring about how she appeared to the world. It was obviously not going to go her way no matter how hard she tried. The truth came out so clearly now: she was no Serena van der Woodsen.

"B, you know that's not true-"

"Isn't it? I mean, I can understand why you're confused, because hell, even I can't figure out why you feel the need to keep doing this to me! Taking _everything_ that ever mattered! I'm not you! Isn't that enough? It's not like I'm actual competition for you so why bother with someone like me?" If Eleanor were here right now, she would frown upon her daughter raising her voice. Well, Eleanor can go to hell. She was one of those who stood by Serena too.

"Blair, we really didn't mean to."

"Then why do it at all? Tell me, when the two of you were _screwing_ behind my back, did I ever cross your mind? Even once, did you ever think about me?" She took a deep breath. "You know what? Don't bother answering, it doesn't matter. The two of you mean-_meant_ the world to me and I'm not even on your radar of being an important part of your lives. Or maybe you did think of me, but then you did this anyway; that's probably a thousand times worse. Just go. I don't want to see either of you ever again. I'll leave town if I have to. Wouldn't that make you happy? You can have all of it." Blair couldn't look at either of them anymore. Instead she found a spot in sheets and glared holes in it.

"B, don't leave. You belong here." Her best friend, well, ex-best friend sounded as if she were about to burst into sobs. Good. She should, for once, have a turn at being miserable.

_You belong here_. Blair always thought she belonged there too, in the midst of all the luxury that the Manhattan elite could offer. Now she saw the truth - she didn't belong anywhere. "Blair." His voice was low. God, how she loved that voice. Loved waking up to that voice, loved calling his phone just to listen to his voice mail message when he was away on business. Now the velvet of his words that used to softly embrace her cut traitorously through her heart. "Blair. I don't know how I can fix this and I know I screwed up, but I need you. I always have and especially now... that was my baby too."

"How do you know? You're not the only person in Manhattan with sperm." Now she was being flat out vulgar and she surprised herself. Funny how grief could erase decades of etiquette classes and conditioning.

Even with all that's happened, she could still read him. He tried to stay composed, but she could see his jaw tightened. "Don't- don't say that. I know you're just trying to hurt me." Of course she was. Everyone in the room knew, but she had to lash out. She had to make him hurt, even if what they were feeling could hardly be compared to the blow that they had dealt her.

"Don't make it sound like there aren't potential mates out there for me. Even if you apparently don't find me attractive anymore, there are still plenty out there. Langston, Neil, John, maybe Nate would fancy a quick spin in his limo." She couldn't stop herself. This was completely out of character for her, but the best defense was an offense, and her heart needed the protection.

He kept his gaze on the floor, unwilling to see the possibility of truth in her eyes. He knew that he had screwed up and that if Blair had slept with someone else, he couldn't really say anything without being a complete hypocrite but... Blair was supposed to be _his_. He was supposed to get his happily ever after with his beautiful fiancee. Even if the world turned on him, she was still supposed to be his. But he supposed, in retrospect, that was what he was to Blair. Even when Nate, her prince charming, abandoned her, he was still there.

Oh God, what had he done?

"You're not that kind of girl, Blair. And please, you have to understand this. I can't do this without you. I lov-"

"Don't!" She'd raised her voice to the point where she was nearly trembling with rage. Serena was torn between being devastated, guilty, and just afraid. "You - both of you - have given up your right to say that to me! You're right, I'm _not_ that kind of girl. When I say that I love someone, I mean it. I don't _whore_ myself out to whomever my body desires without thinking of consequences! Tell me, were you wearing the pin? Were you wearing my heart on your sleeve when you were fucking her?"

He held out his hand to steady her and she roughly shrugged it off. "Blair-"

"WHY HER? I would have forgiven any other being walking around in a skirt, but why her? Why sleep with the one person that you know would completely destroy me? Do you want to be Nate that much? Or is it that you hate me that much?"

"Hey, what's going on in here?" And now, the non-judging breakfast club that was completely shattered were all together and it only served to remind Blair of all the times she'd put them at the top of her list while they...

"Get out, all of you. I _never_ want to see you again."

Nate gave his puppy dog eyes that used to melt her to the floor but now only infuriated her. "Blair, just calm down. Your body's been through a lot." At the mention of her lost child, the familiar tears began to overwhelm her senses once again.

"Please leave." She needed to mourn her child by herself and they refused to budge.

"You heard the girl. Get out."

**

From what he heard, Dean had to admit - this was better than Jerry _and_ Oprah. The best friend sleeping with the fiance. Granted, the best friend did look like she stepped out of a magazine and he'd been with plenty of those within the past month alone, but this Blair seemed like the kind of girl you just didn't cheat on. She seemed more Sam's type, to be honest. Granted, she was completely out of his baby brother's league, but she seemed like the kind of girl you settle down with once you've sown your oats. Well, unless you're Dean, of course, who had no intention of settling down. Ever.

"And who the hell are you?" The fiance asked. What did the intern say his name was again? Oh right, Bass, the one who owned pretty much everything.

"Dr. Jack Lanchester, psychologist for post-traumatic stress. And who are you?"

"I'm Chuck Bass." With those three words in that tone, Dean decided right then and there that he hated the arrogant son of a bitch.

"Well, whoever you are, my patient needs peace and quiet and she needs to answer a few questions. So all of you need to step out unless you want the yelling match to further traumatize her. Before you answer that, please keep in mind that she just lost a freaking baby." Okay, that was probably not the best way to put it, but looking at the shamed faces, it looked like it did the trick.

And so he turned his attention to the little high society princess. She was pissed, sure, but she's probably pretty guileless and naive. Those rich types usually are. "So, Ms. Waldorf. I'm just going to ask you some questio-"

"Who the hell are you?"

Dean blinked. All right, that was unexpected. He opened and closed his mouth once before he could get the words out. Maybe she'd zoned out before? "Um, Dr. Jack Lanches-"

"Oh cut the crap. You're no doctor."

_What the hell?_

"I've been lying all my life. I've also been seeing shrinks all my life. You can't fool me now tell me who the hell you are before I call security and they run the barcode on your two-dollar fake ID and polyester costume white coat." Now he was insulted. That ID had cost him a twenty.

"All right, Ms. Know-it-all. You got me. What are you going to do, run to your fiance? Oh wait, he's screwing that hot blond." Shit. That was low. He was panicked about getting caught, but that was not okay at all after what this woman had been through. "Listen, I'm sorry. I just- even if I told you the truth, you wouldn't believe me."

"Try me." He let out a sigh. So much for being naive and guileless...


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks again for you guys' support. It definitely helps to know that I'm not nuts! :)

The Awakening

Chapter 3

A couple of days ago, Blair would have thought this man crazy. She still should, actually. But this also meant that there was a possibility that _she_ wasn't crazy...

"So, these monsters or whatever that you hunt... they actually exist."

"Yup, and I've got the scars to prove it." He'd laid his white coat on the back of the chair beside the bed. He rolled up a sleeve and displayed a scar that ran from the middle of his forearm to his elbow. "Harpies. And I mean real ones - bird women and all. Not just crazy bitches."

She didn't even humor him with a smile. When he'd shown his arms, though, she did have to appreciate the way he obviously took care of his body. Chuck was a beautiful being in his own right, but this Dean Winchester just exuded a coarse manliness that even Nate, who regularly worked out, didn't possess. "So this snake woman-"

"Lamia."

"-there are more of them?"

"There's a good possibility."

"And you're going to hunt it?"

"That's the plan."

This was insane. He spoke about this like they were talking about the weather but these are monster they were talking about. She let out a sigh and leaned back until the back of her head hit the pillow. She bit her lip and kept her eyes on the ceiling before finally making the decision. "I'm coming with you."

He nearly fell off the chair, he was so shocked. "Say what?"

"If you're going to fake being a doctor, you're going to have to act a little smarter." She looked straight at him now, ready to take on any objections he might have.

"This isn't a joke, Blair, all right? This _thing_, whatever it is, I'm still not a hundred percent sure. But I _do_ know that it's dangerous. If you think I'm just going to let a little Upper East Side princess like you -"

"It killed my child. I'm going." Her voice didn't waver once and he could feel her stare bearing down on his. "And if you won't let me work with you, I'll go after it by myself."

_Damn it_. For the first time in Dean's life, a woman had backed him into a corner and completely fucked him over.

***

The last time she had put this key into its lock, she walked into a black hole that she never thought she'd find herself in again. The same betrayal, except without the armor of childish innocence or the slight suspicion that there was something between the two parties involved, left her broken and cracked. She would have to take the Humpty Dumpty title from Cabbage Patch.

She turned the key and the click of the lock sounded louder than ever. How did this happen? How did her home become something that she absolutely dreaded? The door creaked open and she saw him jolt up from his seat on the sofa, stubble growing along his chin and hair a complete mess. She had refused to see any of them after their fight days ago and now he looked like such a lost little boy that she had to steel herself from giving him a hug and running her hands through his hair like she used to after he had another horrible meeting with Bart. "Blair! You came back! I was so worried-"

"I'm just here to collect some things." She kept her voice neutral, by some minor miracle. The earnest quality of his voice when they were alone always got to her. "Dorota left some of my books behind and there are some things that she should have left here." She placed the cardboard box she'd been holding onto the coffee table and strode past him into the bedroom. The walk to the bedside drawer brought back memories of lazy Sunday mornings together, lying in bed and watching the curtains blow from the draft through the windows. The memories were tainted now, with blond hair and long pale legs.

She took a shaky breath, gathered the last of her novels and turned only to find Chuck standing in the doorway, a velvet case that he'd taken from the box in his hand. "This was a gift. Keep it." She was seventeen when he'd given her that necklace and that was the night when he first truly expressed that he cared for her more than any other girl he'd ever encountered. He made her feel loved that night - and that was why she couldn't keep it.

"I don't - I can't keep it." She walked towards him slowly, as if preparing herself with every step for the closing distance between them.

"Chuck Bass doesn't regift and I'm not going to wear this around so take the damn necklace, Waldorf."

She smiled sadly at him. It really was over, wasn't it? "You know, if you'd been good, in another two months, you would have had to call me Bass." She put her hand against his cheek and shook as he turned his face and placed a light kiss in the heart of it. With a quick glance to the floor, she strode back into the living room, her books tucked beneath her arm. She began to fix herself a cup of coffee for the road and the finality of the situation hit her like a knife. She was never going to use the cappuccino machine that they'd picked out together (she picked the apple red color) to brew herself a cup of joe again. One of the many things that she'd never...

"I'm guessing that you're going to want this back?" He lifted the sleeve of his sweater and showed her pin. Unlike Nate, he actually kept very good track of it. Instead of sewing it to a sweater, he would transfer the pin to whatever he was wearing so that in actuality, he always _did_ have her heart on his sleeve all the time. It was little things like that that made the betrayal cut all the more deeper.

So she shook her head with a sad smile. "No, it was a gift. Besides, the thing that it symbolizes... it's broken now anyway. It's no use to me."

He nodded, almost with a sigh of relief. He didn't know what he would do if he couldn't start his day with pinning that little gold heart on whatever he was wearing, even if she wasn't there anymore. "I'll keep wearing it."

Despite watching everything that mattered in his life go down the drain, Chuck still tried to make light of the situation. He put the Erickson Beamon necklace box on the table and looked through the other contents of the box. "I never thought I'd get to wear _this_ shirt again." He picked a white button down with pink stripes down the arms. She'd thought that it was the most comfortable material in the world and held it hostage, wearing it around the suite with nothing underneath. In true movie-fashion, she'd said the shirt smelled like him, and kept her company when he was away on business. Where was he going to find another woman who could pull off something so cliche and yet appear completely sexy and ravishing in the next minute? Now he was the one who would be wearing it around - purely because it now smelled like _her._

She poured the coffee into his blue plaid mug instead of her matching red one and put in two sugars - bittersweet just the way he liked it. The coffee had been intended for herself, but it would be the last time he ever got anything from her. She was so sick of fighting. She placed the mug on the coffee in front of him and gave him a lingering, yet chaste kiss on the lips. "I love you, Chuck. I really do and I think despite everything, I always will."

"But you can't stay." She shook her head and put her fingertips on his cheekbone, memorizing the features that she'd woken up to every morning.

"Take care of yourself, Chuck." She slid her huge diamond engagement ring off of her finger and felt instantly naked without it. Tears that she'd repressed came pouring out as she tried to pull the key off of the heart-shaped keyring. She felt his tears on her hands as her fingers fumbled around the metal. Finally, with his hand over hers, steadying her fingers, she got it off and she placed both the key and the ring on top of the necklace box.

Without another word, she was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

The Awakening

Chapter 4

The Fifth Avenue New York Public Library was ridiculous, Dean decided. This was probably what heaven looked like to Sammy. But seriously, at this rate, even with a Yale grad sitting next to him, pouring over the however-many-ith book, they'll never find anything. He still had to find his dad, who was still MIA, and the plan was to pick Sam up on the way. Now he was across the country with some chick, albeit a hot chick, inside a freakin' library.

"Nothing. Nothing indicates that it can be destroyed at all. I've looked through everything they have on this thing and still - nothing." She pulled her sexy librarian glasses off (when he'd told her what he thought of them, she'd given him a glare that shut him up real fast), and ran a hand through her hair. "Are you sure there's a way to stop this thing?"

"Look, it's not anything I've ever dealt with, all right? And my father doesn't exactly mention much about it in his journal, asides from the whole children devouring thing."

"Great." She chewed her bottom lip again and he caught himself looking a bit too intently. Again. "I mean, it has to come from somewhere, right? These things, they don't just materialize out of thin air, from what you've told me. The original Lamia came from this one woman so where are these others coming from?" He could have kissed her right now, if he wasn't so sure that she would slap him, and he told her as much. She rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. "All right, your perverseness aside, what are you talking about?"

"Just like you said, these things have to come from somewhere, right? So what if, just what if, lamia are really just ghouls that were transformed from some wronged act? I mean, these attacks are fairly recent - there's no previous patterns. I mean, what if the lore of the lamia were really just misconceptions about angry spirits who takes this form under specific circumstances?"

"Wow, misconceptions. Big word. I'm proud. Anyway, so you're saying that someone who died had suffered like the original Lamia and through that curse, transformed her spirit into one as well? So it had to be some sort of other woman and her children, right?"

"Yea, yea. Now, these attacks have been mostly occuring in the Upper East Side. Come on, you bored housewives love this kind of stuff. Can you think of any recent deaths, scandals, anything that could get you on Springer?" She looked scandalized, but he was pleased to see her dig through her memories.

"Well, I've been away at New Haven until last year..." she trailed off, brows furrowed and that adorable mouth in a pout. He recognized the look of realization as her eyes widened and a teeth-showing smile emerged on her face. "But I know exactly where to look!"

***

"Gossip Girl? What the hell is that?" He leaned over her shoulder to get a look at the screen of her laptop. They'd hooked up the internet connection, and the first thing she did was pull up this website - decked out in girly hot pink with pictures of people who he couldn't recognize with, so far, ridiculous headlines.

"Just the bane of my existence for a good part of my life. I have my own tag on the site. Now shush, let me look through this. You go harass some innocent librarian or schoolgirl or whatever you're into." He felt he should be insulted, but also amazed that the girl knew him so well.

He watched her scroll through page so quickly, he was worried that she wasn't even reading it. She was probably a pro at it. "Just look for affairs, deaths, illegitimate children - the _Desperate Housewives_ stuff." She gave him a look that sent him withering away to the comics section.

About an hour later and half way into _The Dark Knight Returns_, she found him sitting on the floor of the aisle, a print out in her hand. "I think I found what we're looking for... is that a comic book?" The disdain in her voice matched the indignant scrounging of her nose. She now took the time to look at her surroundings. "God, what loser part of the building did you lure me to?"

"Hey! Batman is awesome... sometimes. All right, he's kind of old in this one - "

"We have work to do! Not to mention, people will think I've gone completely off the deep end if someone were to catch me here. Let's go, I'm taking you to lunch." Dean hated being interrupted, but let it be known that the guy never turned down a free meal either.

***

He stood back in amusement as he watched her flail an arm at the traffic. Her green skirt flew out behind her as cars sped by and as her hair blew out from perfectly arranged pins, her heeled feet shuffling forward in her haste, he thought that she was positive adora - about to get hit by a car.

He never noticed how small she really was until he found that he could practically encircle her entire waist with one arm and pull her against him just as the sedan clipped her skirt. Nor had he notice that, for a skinny girl, she was soft all over. "What the hell do you think you're doing? She snapped him out of it, thankfully.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing. There are a gajillion food places around here. Why the hell are you hailing a cab and getting yourself killed?" He watched her pat down her windblown hair, her purse dangling from her bent elbow. She paused, eyebrows raised and brown eyes peering up at him.

"You expect me to eat in midtown?" It was his turn to roll his eyes. He took a quick look around before grabbing her by the elbow and walking determinedly in one direction. "Hey, what are you-" Her purse, now slid down into her grip, smacked him as they walked. Even her possessions were hostile.

"You're a New Yorker, aren't you supposed to be good at hailing cabs?" What the hell did she keep in that tiny purse, bricks?

"Please. What do you think drivers are for? " He shook his head at her response. These rich people fun facts were getting less annoying and now were plain laughable. He stopped short and she walked right into him. "Now wh- oh no. No, no, no, no, n-"

***

Blair Cornelia Waldorf never thought she would stoop this low. She had promised herself that she would _never_ - Chuck would never let her do it either.

_When they were thirteen, Serena bought a hotdog for each of them just for the novelty of being an "authentic New Yorker." Nate and Serena wolfed theirs down, mustard and ketchup smearing their lips. She stared at her own stick of grease that was already overwhelming her Coco Mademoiselle perfume, her lips curled in a disgusted sneer. Before she knew it, Chuck had snatched it from her hand and threw it, along with his own, in the trash. He grabbed her hand and walked her into a Godiva at the corner of the block._

Two minutes later, she walked out, a box of chocolate covered strawberries in one hand, an iced whatever-Chuck-ordered-for-her-that-he-knew-she'd-love in the other, and a stack of napkins caught between her fingers ("Are you planning on pouring your drink over and cleaning up after your sunshine-vomiting best friend who tried to poison us? Because I'll get you something else entirely for that purpose. Something chunkier and thicker maybe?"). Gently and mustering the most loving smile she could, she wiped Nate's mouth with a napkin and was rewarded with a sweet kiss and a "Thanks, sweetheart." She hardly paid attention as Chuck snarled at Serena for attempting to steal her strawberries.

She shook her head. The entire day she had tried her best not to think of him, but she had learned during the summer before senior year that even with the entire Atlantic Ocean between them, she still felt his pull on her. 'Blair, focus on your present predicament,' she thought to herself as she glared at the closed, dare she say it, _styrofoam_ box in her hands. How did this happen, exactly? Oh right... him.

_"-no, no, no, no, no. Absolutely not!" He was trying to kill her with salmonella, she knew it. Her Upper East Side immune system was not built for these conditions._

"Lamb or chicken?" She glared at him, hoping he would submit to her famed Queen B stare. Surprisingly, he stared back, eyes narrow as if he were inspecting her. His conclusion? "You seem like a freaky girl behind close ddoors. We'll go a little crazy and have both." He missed her look of disbelief as he looked up at the cart vendor. "Two lamb and chicken on rice plates, my man."

Through her hazy fog of confusion, she heard a slurred voice :"You got it." She heard the god-awful scraping of his spatula against the large metal hot plate and even as her airway filled with the wonderful, stomach-rumble-inducing aroma, she could not tear her eyes away from the tacky red sign that read "Rafiqi's Food Court." How did she get from breakfast at the Palace to ordering from a halal food cart? "Oh, we'll take two Cokes too."

_"Diet coke." She had to regain control somehow. Besides, she did have her standards._

"Uh, apparently one Coke and one _**diet**__ Coke for the princess." She gave him a humorless smile and watched the transaction. Lunch for both of them cost less than half the price of the last cosmo she had. He jerked his head to the side and started walking. Did he just command her with a nod? The frustrated noise that escaped her lips could hardly qualify as a sigh as she threw her head back and dragged her red kitten heels after him.  
_  
And now they were sitting on a bench in Bryant Park, him forking the greasy mess into his mouth and two cans of dripping soda between them. This was practically sacrilege. "You know, my mother has fashion shows right in that spot over there every fall and we're eating out of boxes."

"Correction, _I'm_ eating out a box. You're just staring at yours. Speaking of, if you don't eat anything, I will get in the car and just drive. I have places to go anyway."

"You would not." She was calling his bluff. No way would a self-righteous, hero-complex arrogant bastard like him just leave a monster on the lose. She knew this, but the way he stared her down... apparently, he had this power over people, or at least over her. She popped open the lid and looked at the red and white sauce smeared onto the insider cover of the lid. This could not possibly be edible. She looked at him almost pleadingly. Please don't make her do it...

With his mouth still full, chewing away at another mouthful of rice, vegetables and lamb, he rolled his eyes, set his own box down and grabbed hers. Perhaps he was taking pity on her. Or not. He was fast, she'll give him that. Before she knew it, he had her nose pinched between his thumb and forefingers. What was he, five? She glared at him, eyes shifting between his smug grin and the forkful of grease he had ready in his other hand. She would rather die.

Apparently, her traitorous body disagreed and, of all things, required oxygen. Her lips parted and just as the rush of air filled her lungs, he seized the opportunity and attacked. All right, so it was kind of tasty and... different. It didn't help the feeling of defeat she felt as he chewed with that damned smirk on his own food. And she was hungry...

Whatever. At least she's still drinking her Diet Coke through a straw and not straight from the can.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry about the wait, guys. Hope you enjoy!

The Awakening

Chapter 5

"So tell me about our potential childeater." Maybe it's because he'd been eating alone for so long, he felt like he should seize the opportunity to have a bit of conversation during meals.

"That is so inappropriate," she scoffed. "You know w- _You_ are so inappropriate. You do not randomly grab ladies by the waist or drag them down streets, you know. Didn't your mother teach you manners?"

"All right, number one: you're welcome for saving your life. Number two: don't talk about my mother." He almost expected her to piss him off some more and so he was surprised when she continued as though that part of the conversation had never even occurred.

"Kristie Mansfield. Complete, die-hard Greenwich Village hippie fell for Ben Jensen - rising star in the hospitality industry. _Married_ rising star and, of course, she didn't know that because men are lying, adulterous pigs. Got pregnant and a slight "accident" involving her, Mrs. Jensen and an escalator caused her miscarriage. She committed suicide three days after." She grabbed the printout from her purse and unfolded it. "Oh yea, and that thing I saw had her face. So I'm pretty sure we've got the right person. Just a guess."

He digested the information and shifted his gaze back at her. This could not possibly be normal meal conversation. "Damn, you rich housewives play dirty."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. You should have seen me in high school. Although, Penelope, Ben's wife, always was a total you-know-what. She tried to overthrow my Queen B status once and - well, that's not important. The important thing is, how do we proceed? You're the expert."

"Well we-"

"Blair!" They looked for the source of the voice. A leggy blond jogged toward them, holding rolls of paper that were tucked under her arm while balancing a cell phone in one hand and a tray of Starbucks in the other. "I heard about what happened. How are you doing? Are you well enough to be walking around yet? Oh hi, I'm Jenny Humphrey." Apparently, this girl talked way too much. It's always a shame when a pretty girl doesn't know how to control herself from bubbling over.

"Hey, Lil' J. Yea, I'm doing much better and uh, this is my... therapist?" He watched her fold the photo discretely, impressed by how composed she was even when she was caught off guard. Ow, and that was an elbow to his ribs.

"Dr. Jack Lanchester. How are you, Ms. Humphrey?"

"Jenny here was a sophomore when I was a senior in high school and now she works for my mother. Speaking of which, you should probably get going, Lil' J. My mother doesn't like her lattes lukewarm." From anyone else, this probably would have sounded either ridiculous or bitchy. Dean was amazed, however, with the way she pulled it off and wondered exactly what other schemes she could pull without batting an eyelash.

"Oh right! Thanks, B. I hope you feel better. Chuck too." The brunette's face fell for a second, but not long enough for her friend to notice. He, however, survived by noting these minute details. "Nice meeting you, Doc." The girl ran off in a hurry and left them in silence. He glanced at her for a full minute before looking away.

"Okay... awkward."

Finally, she let out a sarcastic chuckle and shifted her gaze from her semi-finished lunch. "Oh, you don't know the half of it." She put the box aside, clearly finished and, to be honest, she managed to do more damage than he expected. His eyes lit up at the thought of hearing tales of bitchy teenagers in their schoolgirl uniforms going at it.

"Well, sharing is caring."

"Oh, you don't want to hear about that." She tucked a curl behind her ear and at that moment, she looked so... normal. The nostalgic smile on her face and the distant look in her eyes... he couldn't tell if it made her more girl-next-door or more classic-hollywood.

"Humor me." She glanced at him, a perfectly arched eyebrow raised. She shook her head, and bit her bottom lip when her eyes landed back on his, as if in complete disbelief at this stranger before her.

"Well, it all started when we were kids..."

* * *

She was really thirsty. When was the last time someone had listened to her for this long? By the time she had him caught up on her life (why was she telling him this again?), they looked up to find that an entire hour had passed. She didn't find him the type who would be interested in this nonsense. Looking back now even she had to admit that they were out of control, but he listened intently, often replying with the appropriate 'you're joking' or 'she did _what_?' It was nice... finally having someone listen to her side of the story. For some reason she felt like she could trust him, like he would never choose Serena over her.

"And I thought my childhood was messed up." That seemed like the appropriate response to her recap, but it got the wheel in her head turning.

"What was your childhood like? Did kids at school think you're a freak because you hunt monsters?" All right, she really was curious, but she couldn't just flat out ask nicely. It wasn't in her nature.

"Well, I didn't exactly where a sign on my back... but no, kids didn't really make fun of me at school because my dad always moved us around with the different jobs and everything. He taught me everything I know and when he thought that I was competent, we started splitting up for jobs to cover more ground."

She wanted to ask about his mother, but knew from years of dealing with Nate and Chuck that bringing up a man's mother when she was clearly a sensitive subject was a bad idea. Hell, even she couldn't really talk about her mother without being frustrated. What was it about her life that attracts everyone with mommy issues? "But what about friends?"

"Yea, we were a bit short on those. I mean, dad knew some hunters... But whatever, we were always there for each other." He shrugged and took a sip, well, more like a swig, from his soda and kept his eyes straight ahead.

She hadn't known that his childhood had been so... lonely. Serena made a lot of mistakes, but at least she could call her to complain about her mother. Didn't Dean ever fight with his dad? "Who's the we?"

Jolted back into the present from his thoughts, he turned to look at her. "Excuse me?"

"You said 'we were a bit short on those,' who's the we?"

"Oh, my baby brother Sam."

"You have a brother named Sam?"

"What?"

"Nevermind, there was this book... anyway. Tell me about Sam. Is he a hunter too? Are the three of you all working in different places?" She didn't know why she cared, but that look in his eye when he first admitted that he didn't have any friends... it made her want to hear him out. This mention of a younger brother, she was hoping that maybe he wouldn't be so tragic in her eyes then, if he at least had a companion. Then she could stop caring. Because she shouldn't be caring. She's Blair Waldorf.

"Uh, no. Sammy doesn't hunt. I mean, he _could_ - he used to. All three of us but uh, no. He went off to college. Stanford on a full scholarship. He studies law or some other fancy stuff."

She was not expecting the brother of this ridiculously overblown model of masculinity to have a brother who attended the 'Harvard of the West'. "Wow, impressive."

"Yea, he was the scholar in the family. He and dad were alway fighting and he just figured that this life wasn't meant for him, you know?"

She knew what it felt like to have your future mapped out for you. The pressure that him and his brother were under to please his father. She was almost resentful, if not at least a bit envious of his brother's courage to stand up for himself and kind of breeze by... or at least, survive. Serena always managed to breeze by doing whatever she wanted too. "Do you- I mean, you obviously know a lot of stuff about - well. I mean, do you ever wish you had gone and done something else?"

He shrugged his shoulders again. "Never really thought about it, but I don't know, man. I mean, I don't know if you noticed in the library, but I am not a big fan of books."

"Or at least those without pictures."

"Ha- yeah. I mean, I was never interested in school. At least with this job, I make a difference, you know? Let's be real, I'm never going to be a doctor or a lawyer or whatever, but I'm saving lives. Even if the world doesn't know it, I'm still making a hell of a difference." She nodded. She would never admit it, but to be someone who makes such a huge difference everyday and be all right with not being acknowledged for it... he was a better person than she would ever be. "You know, it's funny."

"What?"

"I've never really talked to anyone about myself and I'm pretty my dad would kick my ass if he knew how much I was telling you."

Now it was her turn to shrug. "I pretty much just told you my life story too, so we're even." And it was also because she could understand that feeling of being able to purge your feelings to someone, anyone who would listen. He'd probably been alone for a long time now. "Hm, anyway. Before we got on this wild tangent. Crazy spirit lady. What do we have to do?"

"Oh. Well, simpile. We dig up the body, burn and salt the bones." He took her box from her lap and threw it out along with his own trash.

"Right, simple. Of course."

What the hell did she sign up for?

* * *

She got his call at 4:00 am. The way he slurred her name, she figured he was probably on his fifth scotch. "Blair, sweetheart, love of my shit life. Are you fucking him?" She could always pretend she was sleeping, but she hadn't slept a wink all night and he would know by her voice.

"What are you talking about, Chuck?" There had been enough confusion for the day. After leaving Dean, she crept back to her childhood home, head full of monsters and affairs and lost babies and childhoods. "Chuck, you need to go to bed."

"The baby Humphrey said she saw you with him. Th-that doctor guy. Are you okay?" The tenderness in his voice almost broke her resolve. Forget everything. She just wanted him. "Baby, are you okay?"

She wiped her eyes. "I'm fine, Chuck."

"Good," he murmured. She heard his sigh of relief. She sat in silence, phone in hand. "Then... then are you..." He couldn't finish the question and she understood.

"No, Chuck. I just needed someone to talk to. I've been running a little short on friends lately." She repressed the cruel part of her that wanted to add that at least Chuck wouldn't sleep with _him_. She listened to him breathe the way she had for so many nights and with each drag, he took hers away until she choked. "Get some sleep, Chuck."

"Baby, wait-"

She hung up before he took any more from her.


	6. Chapter 6

The Awakening

Chapter 6

LICK IT UP. LICK IT UP. OOOOO~~

Blair jolted awake. She hadn't had a wake-up call before 8 o'clock since high school and never to... what is this anyway? Her vibrating phone clattered to the floor and she flung her upper body off her mattress to retrieve it. What the hell happened to her ringtone?

"'Ello?" Her hair brushed the floor as she laid on her back across her bed, her head hanging off the side. It was too early to lift herself back up.

"Rise and shine, sweetheart."

"Dean?"

"No. It's God. And by the power vested in me I demand that you tell me what you're wearing." She was really just not ready for this right now. It's not even light out. "Come on, I'm outside your building. Are we gonna burn some bones or what?"

She looked at the time on her LCD screen and groaned. "Dean, it's four. You can't be serious so you must be drunk. Give me a call in a few hours and try not to get arrested for public indecency." She hung up and curled herself back up into her sheets and pillows. Her phone resting on her nightstand with her alarm set to nine o'-

LICK IT UP. LICK IT UP

"What the hell?!" She yelled like he was standing in front of her, like he could see the way her lips turned down in displeasure.

"We're digging up a grave, not something we can really do during the day. Now get your cute nightie-clad ass down here and-"

* * *

She slammed his car door within 5 minutes in her oldest pair of pants and a cotton tank. "Don't you _ever_ touch my phone or my ringtones again."

He put the car in gear without even looking her way. That's different. "Morning to you too, sugar."

He thrusted a box of donuts in her face and, reluctantly, she took a bite out of a plain one. "So how'd you figure out where we're going?"

"Public record."

"Seriously?" He nodded. "Well for the record, I want to be cremated."

"Sure, I'll let them know by posing as your lawyer who's a psychologist on the side."

"Web of lies!" She chuckled and realized that she couldn't remember the last time she did right, she was with him...

"And that's different from your everyday life, how?" At the cold-bucket-of-water truth, her laughter died and they drove into the cemetary to the tunes of Bon Jovi.

It was most definitely too early in the morning for this.

* * *

"You know, if this were a date, this would definitely be on my record of worst first dates ever." She stayed low with her flashlight, scanning the names of strangers' gravestones, never quite far enough from him to really worry about being alone. Blair didn't know what she would do if she saw that thing again, that thing in the mirror that took..., but she knew that Dean would know what to do. And she trusted him, somehow, with her life.

"Who said this was a date? And if it were, we already did the whole lunch and nerdy library thing. I would be expecting to get some." He chuckled at her groan. It was apparently a sport for him to torture her. Then, his footsteps stopped and her entire body tensed. "Oh God."

"What? What is it? Did you find her?" She whispered as though it could hear her and shuffled over to him, the sound of swishing dried leaves at her feet.

He had his flashlight shining directly on the graves stone and she peeked from behind her tight grip on his arm. "Who would actually name their kid Ben Dover? Ow!"

"You deserved it." She wandered off again, back to where she had left off, now a little put out by his little joke. Perhaps she was really thinking too much into this. I mean, what could possibly-

"Enough!"

"What now?" The question was mixed with an exasperated sigh. Really, how many more antics could this guy pull in a _cemetary _without getting struck by lightning?

"Stop throwing pebbles at me! They hurt when you actually aim for my head!"

"I'm not throwing pebbles at you! I'm in front of you, dumb ass, now cut it out!" She heard something bounce off the ground. "Damn it, Dean, stop faking it! Get serious!"

"Stop throwing shit at me!"

"I'm not!" There was a giggle and the hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. Oh shit. "Um, Dean? Why do you sound like a ditzy girl?"

Slowly, they turned and there she was. Snake tail slithering soundlessly through the leaves, her hair stringy and her lips impossibly chapped, she smiled at them. Well, she smiled at _him_, but when Blair caught her attention, the apparition cocked her head to the side and stared at her curiously, as if trying to remember...

And then it did. The scowl on its face transformed it entirely - the eyes became red, her forehead impossibly wrinkled. Was this what happened when people die? It let out a growl before launching itself at her, her clawed hands ready to plunge through her body again.

The shot of salt burst loud in the air and with it, it seemed, the sun peeked out from behind the trees at the edge of the field. The thing was gone and there they stood, panting and fixed to their spot. Finally, he turned to her. "You had to call the pissed off spirit ditzy, didn't you"

* * *

It took them the rest of the morning to finally find the damned grave and while Blair kept watch (as if she would ever risk her manicure with manual labor), Dean did his business. The salting, the burning, the covering up - he was truly way too good at this for her comfort. He could just as easily, she supposed, kill her, dig up a grave and burn her too without anyone ever noticing.

She would never expect it from a guy who wore t-shirts with bands that were older than herself.

"Lunch? I'm running a bit low on blood-sugar, I think." It was getting difficult to concentrate. The little sleep she got and then the Ghost-busters moment they had with little miss Kristie Mansfield.

"Another date? You must really want to get me in bed, Waldorf." He started the car and drove towards the Manhattan skyline.

"Yup, your company is so depressing that I would rather get an STD and drop dead."

"Oh stop it, you want me."

In her most deadpan, sarcastic, Dan-Humphrey channeling voice, she responded. "Oh yes, baby. I want you so much. Take me now." She turned her emotion-less face towards him. "_Honey_."

"You're one of those girls who just lie there in bed, aren't you?"

She snorted and turned her face forward. "My husband, well, _ex_-husband always said I'm, and I

quote, mindblowing." That reminded her - there were still... arrangements that needed to be made when she got back. Talks that she was dreading.

"Are you sure it was only his mind that you were blowing at the time?"

"You're disgusting."

"I'm charming."

"Yeah, like a dead fish." A bass. He was charming like a freakin' Bass.

"Oh! Necrophilia _and_ beastiality! I underestimated you, Waldorf! Now all the kinky secrets are coming out. Come on, we've already established: sharing is caring. Tell Dr. Lancaster your daddy issues."

"I have 3 dads."

He was silent for a beat, three John WInchesters barking orders in his ears. "Yeah, that would do it." And he flicked on the radio to clear his head.

* * *

In his effort to degrade her further, he took them to _pizza_... on the _street_. What was it with his aversion against sitting down at a restaurant and eating a normal meal? He kept claiming this was amazing, amazing pizza and as she stared between him and the heavy, nearly soupy cream sauce on her pizza, "the Artichoke" she wondered if he had any standards at all.

He leaned against the railing and devoured his and, in an effort to avoid anymore looks and tricks, she tentatively took a bite of hers, the white sauce smearing around her lips wiped off as soon as her teeth severed a piece. It was... an interesting taste. Perhaps with preface of a few martini's, she would really enjoy it. "Not bad, huh?" The comment only deserved a dead-on stare in return. "Yeah, yeah. So this whole business should be finished. You can return to your regularly scheduled life."

She chewed over those words. Dean and this ghost nonsense had offered a nice distraction to her current predicament, but what did she have to return to now? A broken marriage, moving back in with her _parents_ and going back to work after a failed maternity leave.

Honestly, who fails at maternity leave? Her life was beginning to sound more pathetic than his.

"So where are you off to now?"

He shrugged. "The next great adventure. Rescue some damsels, kick some ghosts' asses, get a little somethin' somethin' if you know what I mean." She nodded. It was disturbing how used to all this faux-macho talk she was now. She was pretty sure there was a time when this sort of talk was restricted to discussions about James Bond movies. Or maybe an old Western. Then again, she supposed there was something Old Hollywood about the way he spoke.

"Blair!" This was the problem with hanging out on the street like a common hooker. She ran into people she was trying desperately to avoid. First Jenny, now...

"Nate, what are you doing here?" She watched her ex-boyfriend jog up to her, his cheeks red and thin.

"I hang out around Union Square sometimes. Better question is what are you doing here? And how are you doing anyway? You know, we're all so worried about-" He seemed to finally notice Dean hanging by the side like an audience who was getting ready to change the channel. "Doctor, right? Is everything all right, Blair?" She shifted her weight around and bit her lip. How was she going to talk her way out of this one? It's Saturday and Dean's dressed like a grave digger because, well, that was how they'd spent their morning.

"Yea, everything's fine. I just, um, well-"

"We were just trying to ease her back in slowly, you know? It's part of my um, my method."

For once in his life, Nate seemed to have caught on to something that wasn't quite right. "Blair, can I- can I talk to you for a sec?" He led her gently by the elbow to one side and she watched helplessly as Dean stayed behind, munching on his pizza. "Blair, what's going on with you?"

"Nothing's going on with me, Nate. I'm just-"

"This guy doesn't really seem... legit. I can look into it if you want."

"No!" This was the last thing Blair wanted. How was she going to explain to everyone what she had been up to while she was supposedly in therapy? "I- I mean, I trust this guy. And I just need someone to talk to and I'd feel really uncomfortable with you poking around behind my back."

"Blair, we're just all really worried about you. I mean, we'd all feel a lot better if you were really taking this seriously and checking yourself into a place like Ostroff or-"

"Well, I'm sorry if I don't feel up to compromising myself for whatever would make you guys feel better. This is about me, Nate, all right? And for once, let's keep it that way! I don't want Ostroff or you or Serena or Chuck or any of you because I can't even trust you! I _just _want Dean!" Blair felt like she was in high school all over again as she walked away from Nate. Everything always seemed to go back to her having expectations and being disappointed. She threw her slice in the garbage and realized that perhaps this was why she was so comfortable with Dean - because she truly had no expectations of him. Or at least any sort of stereotype or impression she had, he blew them right out of the water every time.

It all seemed so natural as she passed by Dean and he turned to put his arm around her shoulder and the two of them walked in sync. She tilted her head towards his shoulder and wondered - when he left, would she ever really feel this free again?


End file.
